


I Celebrate You

by CourtedByDeath



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:10:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourtedByDeath/pseuds/CourtedByDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Mycroft’s birthday and he gets some unexpected surprises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Celebrate You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [narkgatiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/narkgatiss/gifts).



> Little late in posting I keep forgetting I haven’t posted it here yet. I was given three words: Flower, birthday and Amnesia I didn’t do amnesia for all the obvious reasons. I’m evil and cruel but not that evil, gosh. Any and all errors, typos and inaccuracies are totally on me. Lame title is lame and from the poem of the same name by Joanna Fuchs.

Mycroft didn’t do birthdays - well he didn’t celebrate his own at least. Anyone else’s he made a point to remember if they were important enough, they were programmed into his calendar the expected gifts sent.  His own however he hadn’t really acknowledged since he was in university.  So imagine his surprise when Anthea came into his office as he was typing up a response to an email holding up a set of envelopes.

  
“Sir, these came for you.”

  
Mycroft is certain there will be others, more cards the requisite gifts like the one tucked away in Anthea’s pocket - but at least her gifts were more like what he would purchase himself; practical things such as cuff links and things of that nature. Never mind that she didn’t do it out of obligation but because she wanted to and given their history who was he to stop her?

  
Reaching he took the two envelopes from her the top one was rather plain a dark blue in color. He knew who it was from already but he still opened it to find a short message from Sherlock and another from John on the inside. An amused smile graced his face even if Sherlock’s message was less than heart warming mostly because he had seen the particulars of  getting this card signed and that had been worth almost anything. Sherlock didn’t do sentiment in the way Mycroft didn’t do birthdays, but he’d been right in calling John the betterment of his brother.

  
The other however made Mycroft’s brows furrow. The envelope was black, heavy paper a bold M done in silver ink, written with flawless calligraphy was all that was on the outside. It was sealed shut with silver wax - though Mycroft didn’t recognize the seal. Opening it careful not to break the wax he drew out the contents - a heavy card stock with a message of:

> _‘I hope this finds you well. You should take sometime for yourself today. London can get by without you for a few hours. Happy Birthday.’_

  
No signed name, just the black card and silver text as well as a ticket to a private box at a play that had been sold out that he had been wanting to go to. Tilting his head he peered at Anthea, expecting her to take credit for her card only to find her fidgeting with  a small  black box with red ribbon tied about it. When she  felt his gaze she lifted her head and extended the gift box to him smiling, obviously the card was not her doing.

  
Strange, very strange; after all Anthea had been the only one he’d told about wanting to take in that show and it wasn’t as if any other people he spoke to via his work knew how dearly he loved this exact play. Sherlock might have known but certainly it would be one of those things that the younger Holmes would have deleted. So then who?

  
Nestled in the box of was a set of cufflinks in the shape of umbrellas, which made him give a low chuckle.  “Thank you, Anthea.  These are perfect, absolutely perfect.  I will wear them tonight - please make sure that my schedule is clear for this evening, it would seem that I am going to be taking a show.” He held up the ticket wearing an almost boyish grin.  Anthea’s answering smile was warm even cheerful. “Of course, Sir.  I’ll see to that right away,” she replied before excusing herself.

  
The thought occurred to him that he should perhaps wonder who exactly knew him well enough to send the ticket.  For the life of him he couldn’t think of anyone but those three and he didn’t dare hold any hope that it was the third. It  wasn’t as if he a very social person; he was much more private and reserved which was what had earned him his nickname.  There were very few people from his university days who kept in touch with him through the years, the only one who he could think of hadn’t spoken to him in five years.  Surely _that_ man had better things to do than to send him surprise presents.

  
Work had passed swiftly, and evening had fallen over the city of London - for once Mycroft was out among the hustle and bustle of the nightlife; throngs of people  traveling to and fro sightseeing, taxis driving their fares. Mycroft made his way from the corner to the theater choosing to walk from the restaurant. He had given the card and ticket much thought throughout the day. The seal hadn’t been broken before he’d gotten it which meant it had been hand delivered but when he had hunted down the delivery service that had brought it in he came to a dead in. Looking the seal on the wax up  hadn’t come up with anything solid so he just gave in and left it alone.

  
In the end the night out was a good idea and he was enjoying it immensely, as he was shown to his private box he wondered dimly why he hadn’t bothered to take a few hours at least once a week for something like this. Deep down he knew why but he didn’t want to admit it not even to himself. “There must be some mistake.” Mycroft murmured after a moment gesturing gently with his umbrella  to the overly large display of white lilies and roses of deep crimson. “I didn’t-“

  
“These were delivered here earlier just a bit after we opened the doors.” The usher answered glancing down at the ticket. “Yes, this is the right one. Please enjoy the show, Sir.” The young usher passed him the ticket and play bill back. Mycroft was more than a little floored to find that whoever this was certainly didn’t do things half way. Who was this that was so intent on making this the best birthday he’d had in sometime? He sat himself down  reaching to take the card from the display.

> _‘As I said, you work too hard. Stop and smell the roses every once in a while.’_

  
The door opened only to close. He wasn’t sure who or what to expect given this day. “I hope you don’t mind a bit of company.” The voice that came was not the usher but the voice was much deeper and one he was far too familiar with. He glanced over his shoulder to find Gregory standing there, dressed in a tailored suit; a bit more formal than his usual attire; holding a box of chocolates and wearing a smile. His heart did a strange thing, a flip and twisting flop, slamming against the cage of his chest. Oh dear god.

  
Greg watched the expressions play over Mycroft’s face, a jolt of smug pride came as he watched Mycroft’s face go from surprise to confusion then softening into something he wasn’t exactly sure he could name but it tugged at his heartstrings, made him want to just come down to his knees and wrap his arms around Mycroft - to just hold him. Crossing the space he peered down at the seated man, the silence stretched but they seemed to be having an entire conversation through that single glance Mycroft was the one to break it, clearing his throat loudly. “I’ll take as an invitation.”

  
“Yes, I- I would like that.”  This was absolutely impossible, here he was with Greg - Greg who had been, even was still - Now here he was the number one example of awkward and uncertainty. “You did all this?” Why? The unasked question hung in the air as the DI took the other seat laying the box of sweets by the flowers. “The card, the ticket, the flowers….”

  
“You know I did. Who else would know you were dying to see this the instant it was announced but wouldn’t use your connections to secure a ticket? And who would dare keep you in the dark as I have?” He had the gall to laugh at his own words and the way that Mycroft looked at him tilting his head; a scolding yet playful look before he rolled his eyes resting his umbrella over his thighs.

  
“Did I ever tell you you were out of your mind? I mean honestly Gregory there was no need for this.” There really hadn’t been any need for him to something like this. His fingers ran along the line of his umbrella, “A simple card would have been more than enough. More than I-” He trailed off.  More than what? More than he deserved? That was a given. More than he’d expected? Again dead on. But to say either of these things wouldn’t go over well with Gregory.

  
“I know and that wasn’t your fault. None of that.” Greg’s broken into his thoughts. “It wasn’t your fault, Myc. I shouldn’t have held it against you for this long, that part of it was childish and cruel of me. It just took me too long to realize that, too long to get myself straight.” It went without saying  about his marriage and that mess there. “At any rate, I’ve done a lot of thinking and I’m tired of it. I’m too old for that kind of thing.”

  
Heaving a sigh he shook his head reaching out to take a firm grip on Lestrade’s hand. “It wasn’t my fault but I could have gone after you and communication is a two way street. No one should expect anyone to do all the work in any kind of relationship. I’m sorry that it feel apart the first time.” A sly little smile tugged at his lips. “Kiss me if I’m wrong but if all of this is some kind of effort to ask me if we could try again my answer is absolutely.”

  
A slightly larger hand came to rest on top of Mycroft’s, there was laughter in Lestrade’s voice and a cocky little half smile on his lips as he leaned in. “Kiss you if you’re wrong, huh? And what exactly do you expect me to do if you’re dead on?”

  
“You’re a clever man, Inspector. I’m certain you can figure something out. I do encourage you to try you have the full support of the British government behind you.”

  
“I don’t know this looks like it might be my most difficult case yet. It could take the rest of my life at the very least to try and puzzle out all the details. But I’d certainly be more than willing to give it the old college try. I had best get started right now.” The last was whispered against Mycroft’s lips as  he leaned in and kissed him like he ached to  ever since they had came back into each other’s lives that rainy night.


End file.
